


The Fool (and His Game)

by SYSTEM-7 (Sinnael)



Series: Alpha/Beta/O-Marvel [1]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Alpha!OMC, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alpha/Omega, Date Rape, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Extremely Dubious Consent, Knotting, M/M, Mpreg, Omega Tony Stark, Oral Sex, Self-Lubrication
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-05
Updated: 2016-04-05
Packaged: 2018-05-31 06:43:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,179
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6459931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinnael/pseuds/SYSTEM-7
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Let it be known that Tony Stark was a great many things.</p>
<p>A genius, obviously. </p>
<p>A drunk, most certainly.</p>
<p>An Omega slut, sure. </p>
<p>But he liked to think that he was no fool."</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fool (and His Game)

**Author's Note:**

> [So after dabbling in the MCU fandom for a while, I finally got smacked over the head with an idea that I needed to write. Not sure how good my grasp is on Tony as a character, but hopefully I didn't completely butcher him. It's also my first ever a/b/o fic, so... this should be interesting.]
> 
> [This work has no Beta]

Let it be known that Tony Stark was a great many things.

A genius, obviously.

A drunk, most certainly.

An Omega slut, sure.

But he liked to think that he was no fool.

“Play it, Jarvis.”

The image on the screen wobbles. The guy doing the recording definitely has no promise in the porn industry, but based on that heavy breathing, he’s sure Camera Guy had other motives.

[ _“Nice to see you can put that smart mouth of yours to better use, Pretty…”_ ]

The camera zooms, the image going blurry for a moment before refocusing. Now he can only see Dirty-Talk’s bottom half, but he can plainly see the tousled mop (because that’s what it is, a _mop_. Christ did he need to get his hair trimmed.) of dark brown hair bobbing up and down on a rather impressive cock.

Absently, his eyes flick to the corner of the screen because these two _geniuses_ kept the _goddamn date and timestamp on the recording_. He remembers that night, or rather the party that had been held, and he knows he met Dirty-Talk there. Camera Guy, he isn’t so sure…

He remembers being bored, as he so often is at these little events the Board likes to host. After Pepper, he kind of lost his interest in playing the field (No, he was _not_ still upset about the breakup, Rhodey.), which was really the only kind of fun he _could_ have at these things. He can still pack on the charm; he's a natural at it, but it’s more often fake, more often a chore that he gives up on at some point in the evening in favor of sitting at the bar and drowning in scotch until his inhibitions dull, until he can take some of the risks he likes taking, the ones that usually end the next morning with a hangover and someone else in bed with him whose name he didn’t bother to catch.

He remembers Dirty-Talk coming to the bar next to him at some point, all posturing and pumping out Alpha pheromones in the hopes of impressing some pretty hole enough to take it to bed. He’d been attractive at least, tall and broad shouldered, built like Captain America, but without the blond hair and that endearing 1940’s Brooklyn charm. No, this one was more like the stereotype, the smirk and gleaming eyes that rove over their prospective conquest with no kind of subtlety, the knothead always out looking for the next place to put his cock.

Just the kind of risk he’d felt like taking.

How convenient that he was clearly in Knothead’s sights too.

Things started simply enough, light, pointless banter veiling subtle flirting, feather light touches once the alpha was emboldened by his clear state of intoxication. A little bit of that patented snark is thrown in to make things more interesting; sometimes these types liked a pliant submissive while other times they liked their toys to have a little mouth on them, more bite, and that, he is always willing to dish out. Those pheromones had been almost suffocating thanks to his suppressants (he’s reckless, not an idiot…), more of an irritant than anything else, even with his booze-muddled brain. But even drunk off his ass, he knew this game, knew how to play it. He knew how to appeal to an Alpha ego, how to make it look like he was succumbing to their _powerful_ (ha.) presence when in the end he was getting exactly what he wanted.

He knew exactly when to lean in and take a long drawn breath, let it look like he was losing himself in that earthly scent, knew to sigh and lean even closer, let thick arms encircle him like a protective barrier and shiver when that low voice breathed in his ear.

_‘You look about done for the night, Pretty.’_

Then lips were on his, and he had to admit that at least Dirty-Talk was a good kisser. It was lingering with a smoldering heat beneath, a promise of what would come if Tony accepted the proposal he _knew_ was going to follow.

When they parted, Dirty-Talk had given him a charming smile.

_‘Finish your drink and come back to my place?’_

_'Sounds fun,'_ he'd purred.

And that he did. Or at least he did the former. He’d kind of passed out before he could actually decide on the latter.

 

\---

 

_He wakes up hot._ Too hot _, and there’s enough of him left in his brain to know that something isn’t right. Or did he? The thought is so fleeting and quickly overcome, scrambled until it's nonsensical._

_The room is bathed in a dim, soothing light, but it’s so damn_ hot _, and his skin is burning and tingling, and the expensive sheets beneath him feel like sandpaper even dampened by sweat and some other fluid that seems to be slowly soaking his legs. He can’t seem to calm his breathing, and there’s an almost familiar restlessness in his muscles, as if his body_ needs _but can’t seem to figure out what or why._

_He’s lying on his back, dazedly staring at the ceiling, but eventually, he knows he needs to move to get a look at where he is. Unfortunately, those sheets graze sensitized skin and the flood of sensation forces his back into an arch and a sound to come out of his mouth that he wants to kick his own ass for._

_That’s when a presence makes itself known, the bed dipping as weight settles next to him. There’s a touch to his heated skin, his face, a hand settling on his cheek and gently turning his head so that a vaguely familiar face is brought into his field of vision._

_“Finally awake, Pretty?" Oh. The Alpha. "I think you drank too much, so I brought you back with me. Couldn’t leave you out there for all those Alphas to take advantage of…”_

_Lips are pressed to his, and it’s like an ember reignites into a blaze of needwant_ NEED _, and he’s arching up, fingers trying to find purchase in the Alpha’s clothes to keep them close, not even of the frame of mind to see the irony here. A whine vibrates in his throat as large hands slide along his skin, as that intoxicating (had it always smelled so_  good _?!)_ _scent invades his nose, surrounds him, and makes his body thrum and pulse_ _._

_“Shit, he’s already soaking through the sheets!”_

_A new voice hisses somewhere out of view and has his alpha (his? When did_ that _happen, exactly?) pulling away so that eyes can rove over him, take him in again. The image must be pleasing if that wolfish grin is any indication. Now that you mention it, he can smell the familiar sickly sweet scent of slick mingling with earthy Alpha musk. Is that what the voice was talking about? And some minuscule part of him couldn't help but wonder how the hell he could be leaking slick._

_Oh, but those thoughts are shoved away when Alpha speaks._

_“He’s right, Pretty,” comes the heated purr, and a warm hand returns to his body, sliding down to his hips, then lower between his thighs which fall open so eagerly with the need to be touched. “Look at how wet you are. Just so eager, aren’t you?”_

_The Omega in him croons, body arching, rocking up in a display of just how_ eager _it is. It earns him an almost fond-sounding chuckle as both hands now roam over his heated skin, like every detail is being traced over, every angle and curve cataloged._

_“I know. You can’t wait for me to fill you up, but I need you to be patient.”_

_Another whimper is his answer, the sound rising to a soft keen as lips find their way to his belly, just below his navel and so tantalizingly close to his weeping cock. Just one teasing kiss is all he gets before those lips pull away and strong hands grip him once more, guiding him._

_Suddenly, he's on the floor, on his knees, and the carpeting is so much more uncomfortable than the bedsheets. A hand is in his hair, fingers soothing as they rub over his scalp. His head presses into the touch, fingers twitching as they find purchase in dark slacks; he feels more grounded now with something to hold onto, but only just, like clinging to driftwood in the middle of the ocean._

_“Such a pretty thing,” that voice murmurs above him, and he looks up. A smile is what he gets, that voice lowering into a rumbling growl. “Do you know how hot you’re making me?”_

_As if to emphasize, he is pressed into the Alpha’s pelvis, against a very prominent bulge, and oh_ god _he_ wants _that. That powerful scent makes him shudder and his eyes roll back, and he mouths at it. Above he hears a purr of satisfaction, and somewhere off to his left he hears a harsh breath hitch._

_“You want it bad, don’t you…”_

_He only nuzzles more insistently until those fingers grip his hair and pull him away, forcing him to look into darkened eyes as his Alpha’s other hand deftly frees himself from confining clothing._

_And_ oh god _when he gets a look at him. Large, engorged, and curved so gracefully upward. His muddled brain doesn’t even think to wait for permission, fingers wrapping around searing flesh at the base while the rest is taken into his mouth. His Alpha doesn’t even stop him, his steady hand a grounding presence, but otherwise neither pushing nor pulling, letting him set his own pace, letting him enjoy himself. And ohhhh, does he enjoy it, the taste, the heat, the weight of it on his tongue._

_“Nice to see you can put that smart mouth of yours to better use, Pretty…”_

_It doesn’t last long. Fingers go back to rubbing his scalp, coaxing a moan from him, the sound starting low in his throat. His Alpha joins him soon after, hips bucking forward. The head bumps the back of his throat, pressing there for a moment as the flesh under his fingers begins to swell. It’s at that moment that he is none too gently pulled away, an undignified cry of protest pulled from his lips. Too soon! He wants more! He_ needs _it!_

_“Getting a little greedy, Pretty," Alpha says, holding him by his hair as he tries to dive back in. "I gave you a taste, and as much as I’d like to get off with your mouth--”_

_His Alpha cuts off long enough to hoist him up and drop him back into bed where his fingers curl into the sheets._

_“We can save that for another time. Tonight, I want you on your back, so I can see that pretty face when you come on my cock.”_

_Ohhhhh and did that sound like a wonderful idea, wonderful enough to make his whole body spasm, and was that how he sounded when he moaned?_

_“Holy shit, did he just come?”_

_“Shut up and keep rolling. I didn’t bring you here for your commentary.”_

_He is treated to that smile again. “That all it takes to make you gush, Pretty? I’m almost tempted to make you my mine, now. Would be so easy to keep you.”_

_There’s a third voice now, hoarse and rambling. Oh that must be his own voice because he is sure his lips are moving, and while he can’t quite understand what he’s saying because he can’t even think straight, he is sure it's a plea for Alpha to do_ just that _._

_“No, no, Pretty. I don’t think we’re ready for that just yet,” Alpha replies with mirth. “We did just meet after all.”_

_If his brain could put together a coherent thought, he would find that hilarious. Indeed, they’d just met, and yet here they were in some hotel suite about to fuck. Really, he had no room to talk, but to hear that from someone else just made some part of him want to snort. Instead, he grows impatient, writhing against motionless hands, hips rocking and twisting._

_“Maybe we’ll talk about that some other time,” Alpha says almost conversationally, large hand rubbing tenderly over his belly. “Right now, you must feel so empty…”_

_God, does he. He can feel his fucking_ insides _twitching and it’s torture._

_"Don't worry, Pretty. I'm gonna take care of you..."_

_There is no preparation, no tongue, no fingers, no_ warning _. One moment, he is squirming, then all of a sudden he’s arched off the bed, convulsing, and, oh God, he’s_ full _! Somewhere off in his head, he’s pretty sure that it didn’t even hurt, his body just giving way, yielding completely._

_Above him, his Alpha groans._

_“Christ, look at how you just swallowed me up, baby! ‘S like you were made for me!”_

_His voice is caught in his throat, and his head is full of white noise. He clenches around the intrusion and moans at how unyielding and_ hot _it is. The Alpha is still though, buried deep but unmoving, watching him with such an intense gaze._

_“Fucking beautiful,” he hears growled low into heated and heavy air. He pants, writhing against the Alpha, feeling him shift and stir around inside. “I swear, I think I could come just from watching you like this. You’re so desperate for it!”_

_Christ, he_ sobs _, legs wrapping tightly around a still clothed waist, trying pull him even deeper though it may very well be impossible with their hips already pressed flush together. No way that suit isn’t going to get stained, but honestly he doesn’t care, there’s no way he_ can _; there is only this, a strong body above him,_ in him _, hands on his skin, and a voice that just keeps praising him._

_“Such a good boy,” comes a purr after a moment, just as the need for more_ moreMORE _begins to surface. Fingers are gripping one of his thighs, the other set on his hip, holding him as his Alpha_ finally _starts to move._

_They roll against each other for a few more teasing moments before his Alpha pulls back and_ slams _back in, rocking his entire frame and making him_ howl _. The pace is brutal, and he loves it, his own body rocking to meet each and every thrust bruising, incoherent strings of words and syllables and clipped pleas falling from his mouth because his grip on it is slipping._

_He’s pretty sure these sheets are tearing in his grasp, but they feel like the only grip to reality he has left. His head is gone, lost in a feverish haze and his body is quickly unravelling. If he lets go, he is going to completely fall to pieces, and if that happens he might not ever come back together._

_“Fuck, I’m gonna wreck you, Pretty." Alpha snarls, his pace quickening. "Gonna ruin you, and you’re gonna love every second of it, beg for it.”_

Damn, _those words are like the fucking Gospel._

_“Gonna fill you up over. And over. Make you take my knot_ again _. And_ again _.”_

_Each declaration is punctuated by a powerful thrust of his Alpha’s hips, and with each strike, he feels that knot begin to swell. Their rhythm slows as his Alpha began to catch on him, and he thrashes, unable to decide which he wants more, to keep up their bruising pace for a little longer or for the Alpha to hurry up and tie him._

_Natural progression pretty much decides for him, and almost all too soon they are locked together. A cry is caught in his throat as his insides stretch painfully, that hard swell of flesh pushed deeper still before the Alpha spills inside him. It's like a chain reaction, all of these sensations bearing down on him at once, and it's enough to shove him over the edge; he comes with an_  embarrassing _whine, back arching sharply, muscles going tight._ _A groan above him makes him quiver, and he almost croons at how satisfied his Alpha sounds, his hindbrain purring and preening. Yes, he did this. Alpha feels good because of_ him _._

_He lies boneless as the other looms above, leaning over him as if to cover his body protectively. Lips find their way to his own, and somehow he finds just enough strength to press up into the soft kiss, to lean as those lips pepper almost reverent kisses along his jaw and down to his neck, right above the gland there. Alpha doesn’t bite, doesn’t claim him or initiate a bond, but he is too spent to care. Perhaps that will come later like Alpha said._

_Finally, the fever feels as if it is dissipating, the heat subsiding, leaving behind a pleasant coolness on his sweat soaked skin. His nerves no longer feel so overcharged and the sheets feel smooth and pleasant. The itch and the need have subsided for now, leaving him tired but so very content… for a moment. Some part of him in a deep, dark corner begins to at his mind, as if screaming from some long distance. Something’s missing here._ Something isn’t right _._

_He makes a sound, his calming heart quickening yet again, and anxiety beginning to take root in his gut. His Alpha must sense it because he is shushing him gently, kissing him with a tenderness that almost feels… hollow._ Fake _. And it's so confusing! That heavy body settles over him, but not enough to be suffocating, and hands once more roam over his skin, fingers rubbing in soothing circles. His own hands find broad shoulders, and he clings as if grappling for the bliss that is being chased away. Whatever is wrong, he just wants to enjoy this for a moment more. Just a little longer…_

_“I think he’s coming down.”_

_That other voice from before sounds much sharper now, clearer and closer, and it only seems to strengthen this anxious feeling. A distressed whimper is stifled by one more kiss from his Alpha before their eye to eye. There is a smile on those lips, and_ something _is off about it._

_“Sleep now, my Pretty boy. I’m right here, and I’ll take care of you. You got nothing to be afraid of.”_

_Suddenly, sleep sounds like a good idea. He feels overwhelmed and exhausted, and maybe sleeping will ease the uncomfortable knot taking root in his belly. His eyes close and he lets the darkness claim him, but he is sure he hears something just before awareness leaves him completely._

_“Get one of the pills and put it in a glass of water.”_

 

_\---_

 

When he awoke, he assumed it was the next morning. The room had been empty, silent, and thankfully the curtains had been drawn. He’d had all the familiar symptoms of a hangover, the headache, the sensitivity to even dim light, and that oh so pleasant feeling like he was going to roll over and bring up whatever was left in his stomach from the previous night.

But this time, it felt odd, different. He felt dizzy and boneless, as if his brain couldn’t connect to the rest of his body and operate it properly. He tried to get out of bed, knowing somehow that he really needed to check his phone because _someone_ had probably been trying to contact him last night and was probably pissed off and worried. He was pretty sure that he could stand, only the moment he did, he went crashing to the floor in a heap and the shock of it had been enough to make him sick on the carpet.

He recalls crawling slowly to the bathroom once he’d (by some miracle) found his phone, and he’d stayed curled right there by the toilet as he checked for any messages or missed calls. The first thing that had struck him was the _number_ of not just missed calls, but voicemails and texts, texts that seemed to grow more and more urgent, texts from not only Pepper’s number, but Rhodey’s too.

At first he thought it odd that they would become frantic with worry so quickly. They knew his habits. But then he’d seen the date, and he’d damn near thrown up again.

That party had been _three days ago_.

_Three days!?_  What the hell happened for him to be away for three days but recall _nothing_ about it? Then he had the presence of mind to set his phone down and get a good look at himself. Red abrasions covered his knees, his chest, and he could feel their faint sting on one side of his face as well. There were fading green and vivid purple bruises on his wrists, and large ones in the distinct shape of hands on his hips and thighs and dried fluid stained the skin between his legs, paired with the unmistakable feeling of more leaking out of him.

Oh, he was fucked, he remembers thinking once it had all settled in, literally and figuratively.

Right after getting sick once more, he’d quickly called Rhodey, or as quick as he could with shaking hands.

Strange how he remembers that morning so vividly when such a large span of time was missing.

 

\---

 

Turns out he’d been dosed with some new rape drug that was gaining popularity, especially with Alphas of the higher class.

Apparently, it works a bit like a bit like Rohypnol as a fast acting sedative combined with a slower acting suppressant neutralizer and heat stimulant, leaving the victim mostly pliant, mindless, and most of all desperate in the way only a strong heat can leave you. A part of him is impressed by it, though he has to wonder what pharmaceutical would have developed it (no way some idiots in their makeshift kitchen lab developed this shit) and for what purpose. Even better was that research found the drug to be available in a liquid variant, easy to slip into a drink without having to worry about a dissolving solid being caught by the victim. Dirty-Talk must have slipped it in when they’d kissed; how did he not even think of _that_?

_Risk taker. Right._

It worked well, he will admit. He uses the best hormone suppressants on the market, and that drug had him reduced to a writhing, heat-crazed mess. His natural heats didn’t even do that to him! Unfortunately for Dirty-Talk, the drug left lingering traces in the bloodstream for longer periods of time, and the idiot had kept him drugged with it for _three damn days_. Sure, it meant he wasn’t entirely coherent when Rhodey came and found him sick on the bathroom floor, covered in sweat and other fluids, but it meant there was plenty left in his system for Medical to detect and identify. He’d been sure to apologize to Rhodey for the image he walked into; Christ, even he’d winced when he finally got around to seeing himself in a mirror. He is just glad Bruce hadn't been there that day; his wrecked state would not have been good for his lab buddy to see.

Before the drug test, though, came the rape kit. He isn’t sure what made him want to go to medical to have one done, but the length of time that he was missing, coupled with how he’d looked when he finally came to made him want it. While he never intends to pursue charges (despite Pepper's insistence that he do so), the test results were good to have. They’d asked if he wanted to take a pregnancy test too, but he’d refused that one. The results to all of his tests were locked away, saved on his private server with the physical forms and kit locked away in his lab. No one was going to get those without his say so.

Eventually, life settled back into some semblance of normalcy. Additional tests had cleared him of any diseases, and since he had no memory of the whole ordeal, there was nothing he could really dwell on, nothing to haunt him. Pepper still tried a few times to get him to see a shrink, but why waste the time? Aside from a suspicious onset of nausea in the mornings, he was perfectly fine.

Then, bits and pieces began to make themselves known. A flash of the room at night, the look of intense eyes as they gazed down at him, the feel of hands all over his body, the stinging burn as the carpet rubbed his skin raw, the taste of seed on his tongue, the feel of it coating his insides. But the voices were the focus, specifically because there’d been two, and that was an interesting detail. While the Alpha had used him, another had stood on the sidelines, but what for?

‘ _Shut up and keep rolling. I didn’t bring you here for your commentary.’_

Keep rolling... The son of a bitch had taped him!

That was when he’d decided to actually pursue that Alpha, and finding him had not been difficult.

Without his drugs, and faced with a team of brutal lawyers, Alpha Dirty-Talk had been pretty willing to comply, especially with all the evidence against him. And his team made sure to inform him of that evidence the second he refused to give up the footage. But faced with possible charges in what would promise to be a long and grueling legal battle, Tony supposes it was so much easier to just give them what they asked for. A shame he didn't get to watch; he'd wanted to go, but Buzzkill Potts refused him. Adamantly.

He never saw a need to go after Camera-Guy.

 

\---

 

All three days had been recorded on a small, unassuming flash drive that had taken him months to finally look at. He isn't what caused the hesitation, maybe a small nagging fear of what the device held.

And he's not sure why he'd chosen to watch the footage today either.

Absently, he worries at the drive with his fingers. An almost smug little smile tugs at his mouth even while he watches himself on screen. He’s played through to the second night, and currently onscreen Tony is being fucked on his side while Camera Guy tries to get the angle right and Dirty Talk lives up to his nickname (he never did bother to get the knothead’s real name). 

[ _“Such a good little slut, aren’t you, Pretty?”_ ]

_Oh Jesus, he moans like such a whore..._

It’s a bit odd to see since a few moments ago the camera cut from the first night to the next morning, and he’d watched Dirty-Talk wake him up with tender touches and soft words before fucking him long and slow between the sheets. And all the while, he stayed pliant and all too willing in his drug-induced haze.

At certain parts, usually after Dirty-Talk’s satisfied himself, he is seen giving onscreen Tony a glass of water. This tends to be normal behavior when it comes to caring for an Omega mate in heat. But at one point, Tony notices something fizzing and dissolving in one of the offered glasses. At least now he knew how Dirty-Talk had kept him drugged.

The footage of night two ends the same way night one’s and day two’s did, with Alpha Dirty-Talk knotting him yet again and purring that he was such a good and beautiful boy: the words and praises a heat-crazed Omega lives to hear. And it makes him finally shudder with revulsion, though he isn’t sure if the alpha’s words are what does it or the way onscreen Tony seems to just _light up_ at hearing them.

Anyway, he’s seen enough.

“Erase it, J. All of it. Then search for any additional traces and get rid of them too.”

Too bad Dirty Talk had to lose his only souvenir. One can only imagine the amount of money that could have been made from copies, or maybe he’d wanted the footage for a _private_ collection. Tony might not have even minded had the knothead prick not drugged him; he knows there are plenty of images of him at his filthiest scattered across the seedy corners of the internet, from a time muddled by excessive alcohol and drug use. And he had the means to purge them all, he just didn’t care enough to do it. Okay, so maybe he’s a little pissed about getting drugged, being _tricked_ ; that’s cheating, and why cheat at a game as easy as getting Tony Stark into bed?

_“Are you certain, Sir? Would law enforcement not benefit from additional evidence should you come forward about this incident?”_

The footage of Dirty-Talk handing him glasses with dissolving pills may have been of use, but by some stroke of luck, they’d found the drugs on his person, both a vial of liquid and a small bag of the pills. Tony feels that is good enough; the footage needs to go.

“Nope. Medical’s got all they need.”

_“Of course, Sir.”_

Besides, he is sure Dirty-Talk, being a businessman himself isn’t willing to risk the character assassination that would come from him being the accused in a potential rape case. Hell his possession of the drugs alone being made public would not be good for his image, and in their world, image means a lot.

And he doesn’t need another souvenir from this little encounter, Tony thinks wryly, absently settling hands over his swollen middle. There’s a flutter under his touch, and the smile on his lips softens just slightly. Yeah, _this_ little reminder is good enough. The squirming little brat is quickly growing on him, and it’s not like keeping a pup cared for would be difficult with his resources. Hell his team has been quite excited for him, especially that star-spangled doofus. He just never intends to tell them how this little bundle came to be.

Of course, if Dirty-Talk ever finds out and tries to make things difficult, Tony is more than willing to come forward with all of the medical documents, the positive tests for the drugs, the DNA results from the semen samples, and the physical that detailed every bruise, every scrape, and every little tear. The pack of sharks he called a legal team would have a field day. The world would feel sorry for the _poor omega_ for a few weeks, and then it would be business as usual, but someone outed as _Tony Stark’s rapist_ would be damned for life.

_“Deletion of the original file is complete. Preparing additional scans for duplicates.”_

“Good work as always, J,” he says, standing and stretching, wincing at the protests from his back. Maybe he should have done this in his bed, he thinks as he moves to said bed and settles into soft covers; pregnancy coupled with his age is really doing a number on him. Just one more in a long, long list of not-so-wise decisions.

So maybe Tony Stark is a bit fool _ish_ at times.

But he stubbornly maintains that he isn’t a fool.

 

**Author's Note:**

> [My first MCU fic, so be gentle. For the SYSTEM is a fragile little flower]
> 
> [Reviews are wonderful as well because I love to know what people think of my work, be it where I did well or where I can improve. Thank you.]


End file.
